


Snakebite

by LazBriar



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Adult Situations, Comedy, Gen, Hazbin Hotel - Freeform, Humor, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Short Story, Swearing, Valentino kinda sucks, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazBriar/pseuds/LazBriar
Summary: Snake was a troublemaker in life and that hasn't changed much Down Below. But when his antics have him run afoul of the famous Angel Dust, he starts to reconsider his typical situations.This was a commission by one of my readers and all-around super swell guy, toxic_itzi! Thank you for this opportunity.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Snakebite

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this is happening

**Snakebite**

_Commissioned by toxic_itzi_

By Laz Briar

“Snake, you freakin’ lunatic, how’d you pull this off!?”

The eight-wheeler rumbled into the junkyard, heavy tires cracking the red tire, surrounded by the ruinous remains of cars, garbage, and partitions of Pentagram City. But the diesel-huffing monstrosity wasn’t hauling pillaged vehicles, because that was too obvious, too _boring._ Every wannabe heister in the City could yank a cheap jalopy and toss it to a chop shop. Snake wasn’t like that, Snake was _ambitious._ Creative.

Instead of an entourage of poorly assembled rides, the wheeler had an entire _convenience store_ chained to its tracks, or one that was set for installation, anyway. In true Hell fashion, of course the store was fully stocked from its Vox-brand candy bars to, well, an actual staff – a single clerk that decided staying inside was the smartest idea. It was the haul of hauls, and Snake was tempted to yoink the building for himself, though in true run-and-gun fashion he’d likely end up robbing his own business in the future. No, better to do what he always did, sell it for scrap. Or in this case, franchise rights.

Snake hopped out of the eighteener once he keyed off the ignition, afternoon hues of pale reds washing over his leather jacket. His serpent-shaped skulled peeled with a grin as he whipped out his switch-comb and began doting on his sweep of flaming hair. That wasn’t a metaphor, he had a coif of actual fire on his head.

In the meantime, a stout piggish demon in overalls padded up to him, eyes wide as saucers, a cheap half-burnt cigar jutting from his lips.

“Dis is the craziest shit I seen since that band’o yucks sold me an actual lemon tree!”

Snake snorted. “Yo, like, spare me the bedtime tales, grandpa. Snakey wants his payday, and it better be _heavy,_ get me?”

This was Snake’s usual con. Find some property, flip it, spend it on some _Dapper Dan_ and do the whole thing in a couple weeks.

The other impressed sinner, Snake’s typical client, waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, keep yer’ panties on rattles. Let me get a damn estimate here, at least. . .”

Said estimate too less than half-an-hour with the demon shouting expletives as he realized a clerk was part of the haul, too. After all was said and done, he emptied his vault to pay Snake. “Sa’ll I got, kiddo! It’s worth it, though!”

Were Snake a long-term thinker, planner, and meticulous schemer, he might’ve realized a short-term profit wasn’t worth it for a potential investment like a goddamn convenience store. Instead, he saw the wad of dosh pouring out of his client’s hands and snatched it, thumbing through the bills with catharsis.

“Yo, _goodbye student loan payments,_ ho-hah!”

He was already past the junkyard’s fence while his client literally clicked his heels.

“BYE!” said Snake with an exaggerated hand wave as he rounded the city corner.

-*-

What better way to continue this monetary-inspired high with a little street hustle? Indeed, Snake was feeling the mojo, his flaming hair clicking with delight as he set up “shop” on a fairly busy street, setting up a makeshift table in front of an alley. The goal was simple: scam suckers, and suckers were _plenty._ Everyone wanted _something_ to get ahead in Pentagram City, or, escape its miserable chaos if only for a while. Drugs were quickest, money to get said drugs second fastest.

Snake would “provide” this money with a game of “Guess.” Three cards, make a bet, pick the right one, boom, payout.

_Nobody would ever pick the right one._

So preoccupied Snake must’ve been with his table and set up that he didn’t denote the approach of a figure to his side. The distinct clack of kinky boots intermixed with the aroma of perfume and cigarettes cut through the otherwise murky noises of Pentagram City. Hips swaggered in trained, playful display while a face normally wearing flirty expressions now sagged with an annoyed frown. The shadow of his frame fell over Snake's table, and it was only here the sinner finally looked up to see the white-fluff arachnid stare him down.

Unfortunately, he wasn't here to gamble.

“Wow, _real_ original scheme ya’ got here, jaggoff.”

The spider cast Snake a disdainful look, clicking tongue at his trio of trick cards. “Some amateur bullshit. Ya’ mind? You takin’ up space on my turf.”

If Snake could hiss, he probably would. He shuffled his three cheat cards and snorted. “Dunno’ what you’re talking about _chicky-pie,_ and last I checked, it’s a free street.”

Angel Dust chuckled. “Bahaha, don’t get cute wit’ me. ‘Guess the card?’ Oh fuckin’ _please,_ there’s like eight dudes on the other side of th’road doin’ the same shit,” he said, throwing his thumb towards the opposite street. A collection of demons – all with tables – waved back.

“Hey Angel!” one called.

“See?”

Snake was silent, but the spider continued.

“And uh, _yeah bitch,_ this here is Val’s stretch, and I work for ‘dat fuck, so ya’ know, his turf, _my turf.”_

Now _that_ Snake found fairly interesting. “Whoa, didn’t realize the V-Man had fingies’ this far out. . . now there’s some honey I’d love to get a jar of, ho-hah!”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Yeah? You’d be fucked. They’d put’cha head on a lamppost.”

Again, Snake wasn’t really processing the distant threat of danger presented by Valentino. “Yo, like, hold up a big sec there chicky-pie, the handle’s _Angel_ , right?”

The spider checked his Hellphone. “Yeahyeahyeah, Angel fuckin Dust. Look, pally, I ain’t got time to gab, so unless we’ze gettin’ busy, scram.”

“Haw, that’s right, one of PC’s sweetest fillies.”

Angel stared. “Are you slow?”

Again, Snake pulled out his pocket-comb and set it through his flaming sweep-back. “Fastest bandit around, babe, they haven’t caught me yet.”

Angel Dust looked his leather-adorned counterpart up and down. “Fuckin’ wiseguy. Anyway, beat it, or I’ll kick yer’ ass myself.”

“Total waste of time, babe, you should cruise with _me_ for some ass-kicking instead, ain’t nothin’ sweeter! It’s payday and I’m ready to keep the good times rollin’, you feel me?”

Angel squinted, studying the snake-skull-headed demon. “Ya’ ain’t heard a word I said, have ya’?”

“Oh, like a megaphone on my ear, sweet thing, but this dive is _totally_ not my style. I’ve got the muy munchies to yank some stacks with a little arm candy, you know?”

The spider groaned. “Look, dumbass, I get paid t’suck dick. Yer’ in my ‘office,’ get it? So, either you hand over some cash or I’m ‘bout to use yer’ fuckin’ head like a lighter.”

“Oh _right,_ I forgot all about the lettuce,” said Snake, oblivious (or totally uncaring) of Angel’s “concerns.” Instead, he yanked out a thin stash of his bills – he didn’t bother counting, and he usually never did. At once, the spider boggled.

“It’s like dinner and a movie,” continued Snake, “expect there’s more stealing and losers totally die, ho-hah.”

Angel, for a moment, went quiet, wiping a thin trail of drool from the corner of his mouth. Then: “Wehehell fuck me upside down, zippo, didn’t know you was _packin’._ You’ze got a real funny way of tryin’ t’get laid.”

Snake stowed the bills away. “Laid? Yo, babycakes, we like just _met._ And Snake doesn’t just go for the _easy_ honeys, dig?”

Angel crossed his arms, wobbling with chuckles. “Y’serious butane boy? Hah! Well, whatever, scram den’. I don’t beg fer scraps, not unless ya _paid_ me.”

“Better idea, chickie pie, I’m still fresh on that hustling jive, right?”

“ _What.”_

“I mean, I wanna’ hustle this town a little more. You should like, totally come along.”

Angel rubbed his eyes. “If I gotta r’peat m’self one more time. . .”

Here, Snake pulled out the layers of bills again. “I said it was a dinner and a movie, get it?”

The spider huffed. “. . .wait, so. You wanna’. . . go on a date?”

“It involves lots of trouble, babe, I don’t roll with flimsy fillies.”

Angel understood. “Heh. I like trouble.” He pulled out his pink Hellphone, checking the time.

“Alright, well lookie here, m’still on the clock. If ya’ don’t make dis’ worth my while, you’ze gonna’ regret it.”

The snake-skull demon jammed a thumb into his jacket. “Every second is worth it when you’re with the Snake, babe.”

Angel dawned an unimpressed expression, stowing his phone away. He’d heard _that_ one before.

-*-

Damn. The guy talked like a discount greaser with a literal flaming hairstyle to boot, but fucker was _styling_ at least. Snake had an amped up ride, a monster of a cruiser car with a souped up engine intertwined with literal demonic tissue to make it an actual beast fit for the roads of Pentagram City. Angel was, admittedly, impressed. Hot guy with a nice ride, the spider could do worse.

“Got a dive to hit, babe,” Snake commented when he tossed himself into the driver’s seat. “Snakey worked up a thirst.”

Angel hopped in too, wiping his hair floof back. The top-down meant he could feel the evening breeze sweep over his features, and it was a feeling he didn’t realize he wanted.

“Oh yeh? What’s yer poison?” said Angel as the vehicle roared to life. Oof, Angel _felt_ that, an excited buzz forming in his chest.

Snake glanced over and smirked, or, at least did a skull’s impression of a smirk. “Whatever’s free, sweet cheeks.”

He pumped the gas and the vehicle sped forward, ripping a trail through the busy city roads. Of course, Snake paid them no mind. He swerved and ran circles around every obstacle and warm body that dared to even be in his proximity, all with casual bravado and his eyes on the prize. . . which in this case, apparently, translated to a drink. Angel felt his frame fly back in the seat, the speed pinning him into the comfy leather cushioning, but it was a good feeling. An overwhelming sensation of power, one this Snake fella commanded, even if it was just with a car.

The world buzzed by until Snake reached his destination: a boxy, worn down building with a shoddy neon sign on a street corner. He parked in the lot with a screeching swerve before cranking the car off. Angel blinked, his fluff chest heaving, a grin stretched over his spidery features. “Hohoholy fuck!”

Snake once again brandished his pocket-comb and strolled it through his flaming mane. “ _The Bandit_ likes it fast.”

He tossed out of the vehicle without even opening his door, though proceeded to waltz to the opposite side and open Angel’s. Said spider chuckled, wobbling as his kinky boots clicked on the ground, dizzy from the velocity. “Hah. Thanks.”

Silently, Snake shuffled in his jacket pocket to brandish a 9mm, a simple but effective thing for dash-and-gun robbin’. Angel glanced at it, half surprised, half repulsed. Not much style to that pea-shooter.

“So, sweet cheeks, pretty simple. I roll the tap-head and make off with our drink of choice. Easy in-and-out, hohah!”

Angel adjusted his shirt. “You’ze eager to squeeze dat trigger, eh?”

Snake looked to the spider. “Second thoughts?”

The spider crossed his arms. “Well, I ain’t gettin’ m’paint scratched for no bullshit, is what.”

“Relax babe,” assured Snake. “You’re with a muy professional.”

Angel was pretty sure that wasn’t how you said that. He was also partially annoyed, but, _intrigued._ Fuckin’ some palookas up for a drink? This guy wasn’t boring, at least.

So, he conceded. Angel Dust summoned his trusty Thompson SMG, loading a drum mag and brandishing with an especially malicious look. “I’ll back yer’ dumbass up.”

Snake hooted. “Oh _baby.”_

In haste, then, Snake dashed to the building’s entrance: a dive bar. Just some crummy corner of nowhere, named “Scuzzy’s.” At once, Snake ran to the door and kicked it open, throwing his 9mm forward as he intruded.

“Yo, like, wings up, barflies, this a fucking robbery, hohah!”

Inside, there were less than a handful of guests. One guy at the bar drinking and the actual server, Scuzzy. Angel came in quick behind, aiming his barrel at an expected crowd.

“Drop yer’ dicks on the ground muddafucka’s or I’mma. . .”

He stopped. “Wha. . . ain’t nobody here!”

The one partially drunk demon, a blob of a thing, wobbled and blinked. “Uh oh,” he blurbed. “I think I had too many picked eggs.”

Scuzzy, the barkeep, shrieked. He was old and hunched with a terrible bald spot. “Robbers?! WELL! SCREW YOU!”

From his position at the bar, he pulled a lever, opened a secret compartment and dashed through it, evading his attackers. Then, his face appeared from behind a layer of glass, a grin stretching his wrinkled features. “Well do your worst, scumbags!” he hollered.

“Dis is six inches of bulletproof glass, ahah!”

Angel grumbled, unimpressed. “Well dis’ was a ripoff. Was ‘xpectin, I’dunno. . . this is just. . .”

The corpulent demon looked at Angel. “Whoa. Are you the drug fairy?”

“Yeh, I’m a fuckin’ fairy all right.”

Snake chuckled, ignoring Scuzzy. “Drinks on the house, huh? Shouldn't have, Scuzzy!”

He hopped over the bar, grabbed a few “choice” bottles (as choice as a dive like this could afford), tossing one to Angel. Said spider caught it, looking the drink over and shrugging. Eh. Not bad.

Then, Snake spied the register, proceeding to expand his robbery by pilfering its contents much to the horror of Scuzz.

“Whoa, no no no! Hey stay outta there oh goddammitno!” he screeched through the muffling glass.

Snake flipped through the newly acquired stack of bills, adding to his latest haul. What was it tonight, a whole convenient store and now a register full of twenties?

“Hohah, next think you know, I’ll be rolling casinos!”

Angel rolled his mismatched eyes. “Is we done?”

Snake would frown if he could. “Problems, shortcake?”

A shrug. “Was expectin’ a banger. Dis is like. . . _depressing.”_

The overweight demon who seemed to pay no mind to Scuzz or the robbers gave a loud belch. “Aw it’s not so bad. I live here!”

Angel shuddered, and given his occupation and forced standards, that was saying something. Snake, more encouraged than anything, stuffed his take and proceeded to exit with Angel. Scuzzy grimaced and called after them, to no avail.

“Heygetbackhere! HEY! Hey. . . huh. How much air do I have in here?”

There was a thump.

“For a professional,” Angel started to comment as they strolled outside. “You’ze is a small timer.”

“The brick in my jacket says otherwise, babe,” said Snake, unperturbed.

“Yeah? I figure you’d at least pop a schmuck, not like, pick off a buncha’ winos.”

Snake parted the bills and handed off a few to Angel. “Yeah? Well, you can’t argue with results, sweet cheeks.”

Angel hesitated, oddly enough, but then took the bills and stuffed them into his fluff cleavage. “Pfft. I clock dis’ every half hour on a _slow_ night.”

Snake didn’t seem to hear or mind this. “Oh? Then what are you doing minding the streets, princess? Sounds to Snakey like you ought to be livin’ in luxury.”

Angel stopped, staring the greaser down. Was this guy serious? “Bitch, d’hell you think dis is? Whattya’ think I meant by ‘on da’ clock’ from earlier? Ain’t _my_ schedule, goddamn.”

Snake crossed his arms. “The only time I follow is mine, babe, the Snake way.”

Angel’s features cracked and he couldn’t stop a laugh. This palooka was something else, honestly. Living by his own rules in a place that refuted nonsensical notions, yet here he was, rollin’ shitty dives and celebrating like it ain’t no thing. Like he was a fuckin’ hotshot everywhere he went, but he was only out to impress himself.

There was something so bizarrely loathsome. . . yet endearing about it. “Well, da’ _Angel way-”_ retorted the spider, making a mocking expression, “-is this ain’t my scratch t’keep. Most of it anyway. I got quotas to hit.”

Snake sauntered to his vehicle, patting _The Bandit_ for Angel to come along. “And who’s keepin’ score?”

Angel didn’t move. Instead, he checked his Hellphone. It had buzzed with an alert, and he swore. “ _Fuckin’ Valentino.”_

“Eh?”

The spider sniffed. “Nothin’. We gotta’ make a quick pitstop.”

Snake didn’t second guess it. “Then let’s make like a magic carpet and fly.”

Angel shook his head, entering the car. This guy _couldn’t_ be real.

-*-

Despite the overwhelming roar of Snake’s vehicle, the sick pit of cold forming in Angel’s chest was impossible to ignore. It wouldn’t subside until he took care of his business, and that was _never_ easy. Time must’ve gotten away from him too, short as the little “robbery” was, indicated by a series of texts:

“ _where the fuck r u”_

_“get over here now”_

_“with my money”_

All Val. On the ride, Angel grimaced and thumbed in his submissive reply, best he could.

_“yes val sorry, omw right now with extra <3”_

Ugh, a statement that made him want to lurch. Response sent, he glanced over to the greaser, feeling a world apart. Seriously, how’d this fuckin’ chud have it all figured out? He didn’t give a shit, did he? Half of the things he was attempting or doing should’ve gotten him killed, or strung up by a gang, or made example of. . . or anything! But nope, there he was, cruisin’ in his superbeast, none the wiser.

He didn’t have time to think it over, as _The Bandit_ rallied a street corner. At once, Angel tossed his hand over and yanked at Snake’s jacket, nervous. “Hey, hang on, stop here.”

Brakes screeched. Snake looked over. “Where’s the fire?”

Angel stared through the driver window. Opposite street there was a pale limousine with fancy gold-gilded wheels and Valentino’s unmistakable insignia. “. . .I’ll be a sec.”

He stepped out of the car while Snake watched. Well, actually, Snake doted on his hair, immersed in his skeletal features.

But then he noticed how the spider moved when approaching the vehicle. Hesitation and fear racked Angel’s form, even if he didn’t show it deliberately. He held himself with spare arms and looked around with feverish concern – hell, there was a tremble to his movements.

Snake tilted his head. He knew Valentino was a big shot, or at least, big enough Snake _heard_ of a guy, but not much more than that. And now, here, he realized this was a lot worse: Val wasn’t just a powerful schmuck.

. . .he was Angel’s pimp.

“Eww. Snakey no like.”

He folded his fingers together. Snake wasn’t interested in any sort of moral crusade or grandstanding. His way was the Snake way and it was the only thing that mattered. But even his blood shuddered at Valentino, if only that it turned Angel into a frightful mess. And he was starting to _like_ Angel. The spider had spunk!

As for Angel, he approached the parked limo as the carriage door swung open, within the same dreadful energy and presence of one Valentino.

“Get your ass in here, Angel _baby.”_

Val’s cold, commanding tone was a leash in itself, one Angel felt the tug of as he entered the back seat. A small part of him hoped that Snake might try something stupid or heroic, but, of course that wouldn’t happen. With a sigh, Angel took his seat, bathed under the warm pink lights of the car with the moth Overlord seated across him, wearing an expectant expression.

Angel frowned and quickly pulled out the stack of bills he’d made over the night. “Yeah, um, sorry, just with a john so ya’ know, lost track of time’nstuff.”

Valentino reached over and snagged the bills, thumbing through them with precision. “What, do I need to set your alarms now too? Dumb bitch. I’ve got schedules.”

Angel looked down, and held himself. “Sorry Val.”

“Pull in double tonight and I’ll forget it happened,’ the pimp threatened. “You’re still on the clock ain’tcha?”

Angel cursed to himself. Fuckshitcunt. No, actually, he wasn’t. After this “date” with Snake he’d be done for the night, but now? _Double?_

 _“_ Yeah,” said Angel, more in a way to acknowledge Val’s new command.

Val snorted then reached over, gripping Angel’s cheeks with his hand, forcing him to look at the Overlord. “Hmph. Clean up your face. Your makeup’s a mess. You’re a whore, but at _least_ be professional.”

Angel growled but conceded again. “Yes Val.”

Of course, Val took all proffs and left nothing before kicking Angel out. “Get on with it then. Don’t show your _pretty little face_ to me again until you have the rest.”

Angel huffed as he wobbled out of the limo, scowling and swearing with his back to Val. The door snapped shut and the vehicle rumbled to life before pulling away. Angel watched it go until it was a speck on the horizon. Hmm. He was relieved. All things considered, that meet could've gone plenty worse. Val must’ve been in a good mood, or was distracted, or somebody _else_ pissed him off more to focus his aggression, cause usually he was as pleasant as a sandpaper dildo.

Adjusting his striped suit top and skirt, he went back to Snake’s car, sitting in the passenger seat without a word. Snake was busy – once again – sweeping his fiery hair back.

“Ohh yeah, Snake digs this, hohah.”

Angel cleard his throat. “Hey uh. I gotta’ make another stop. I’m uh, workin’ overtime tonight.”

Snake stashed his comb. “Where to, sweet cakes?” he said without hesitation. Well, there was that the quality, at least.

“Just some rinky dink hotel down the way, won’t take a sec, gotta’ just freshen up. Ya’ can watch me if ya’ pay. . .” said Angel, adopting a new flirty tone as he winked.

“Wicked idea, Angel babe,” said Snake, revving _The Bandit. “_ Oughta’ ditch those rags for something in leather, you dig?”

On another night, Angel dared to entertain the idea. But tonight? Leave it to Val to sour his mood. “Rags? Bitch this whole ensemble is worth more’n this rustbucket yer’ drivin’!”

Snake squinted. “Now, let’s not say things we’ll regret later, sweet cheeks.”

The drive towards the hotel didn’t take long. Of course, this was no ordinary dive – this was Angel’s latest squeeze, the _Happy Hotel._ He didn’t think much of it right now, but, hell it sure did beat suckin’ dick for rent. And it was minded by daddy’s little monster, Charlie Magne. You know, _that bitch._

When they arrived, Snake made a noisy, screeching park as he swerved off the Bandit’s roaring engine. He looked the scarlet building over, noting its bizarre, mangled construction. It looked like a contraption of buildings and structures were thrown into it. How was it even standing? Ah well, didn’t matter.

“Whoa. Jackpot.”

Angel snorted, exiting the vehicle. “Ey. Don’t be getting no ideas, sticky fingers. I kinda’ like dis’ dump and I ain’t tryin’ t’piss off the management, so. Fuckin’ behave.”

Snake chortled. “What’s in it for Snake?”

Angel shot him a look. “Bitch I been tryin’ t’blow you!”

Wordlessly, Snake followed his escort as they entered the building, encompassed by its worn down foyer interior. Inside, Snake was less impressed. It was. . . well, yeah, a dump. Boarded windows, fractured floors, shattered glass, and not a sign of a single warm body. How was this place holding together? At any rate, notions of a quick cash grab faded fast. There wasn’t even any property worth lifting! What would he nab first, the chair with the three legs? Or the peeling wallpaper? Or, what, the portrait of Charlie and the Magne family?

Wait, the what now?

Snake paused, boggling. “Extra thick layer of cheese on my nachos. . . this honeypot just got a whole lot sweeter, hohah!”

Angel turned. “Huh?”

The greaser snapped out of it. “Don’t mind me, babe.”

Damn, how’d this filly get in with the Magne family? Even Snake recognized the name. Hmm. Strange that said royal title had a dump like this – shouldn't it be blitzed out with gold and servants and such? Maybe it was a property for laundering. . .

Point was, anything associated with the Magne title was a pathway to _big bucks._ Snake wasn’t dumb enough to try and and put the screws to THE royal family, but maybe like, he could get in a good word? Forget paying off student loans, he could fund his own whole goddamn clown college at that point.

In any case, Angel lead Snake along up the first layer of stairs, glancing around. “Huh. Blondie ain’t around. Dat’s good, ain’t feelin’ her brand right now.”

“What, you don’t own the deed to this dump?” joked Snake.

Angel didn’t chuckle, just strut to his room door. “Pfft. Oh, I wish. Naw, dis bullshit’s run by Charles-in-charge. Ya’ know. Charlotte fuckin’ Magne. She’s got a bunch of other circus freaks here but guess they’s out on a dinner date.”

Snake did his best to process that. So it _was_ her.

“And she’s tryin’ the most evil occupation of them all as a landlord, eh?”

Angel wobbled his head and snorted. “Well _ain’t you clever._ But no. It’s. . . complicated.”

Snake wasn’t a fan of complicated so he didn’t ask. In the meantime, Angel shoved his door open. “You can come in. . . if ya’ don’t fuck nothin’ up.”

Normally, Snake would use this perfect excuse to yoink some valuables, but for Angel, he couldn’t. Funny how that worked. As for the spider’s room, it had a lot of pink. _A lot._ Multiple dressers lined his walls filled with clothes, makeup, or weapons. A couple of boxes were huddled in the corner, one labeled “for work” and the other “fun stuff.” A big designer mirror sat amidst a swarm of pictures, and said pictures were filled with. . .

“Nugsy!”

A pig?

At once a little oink scrambled into view, a spotted pig accented by horns and spikes with a flared, sniffing nose. A tiny thing, but its adulation for Angel was immediately apparent. Angel scooped him up and swung him around in princess-like fashion before grinning and hugging the pig tight.

“M’little baby,” commened the spider. “Ya’ miss me? How ya’ doin Nugsy?”

Said pig oinked and wiggled his corkscrew tail, bessing Angel. The spider giggled and pat his head, cradling him in his extra arms. This went on for a spell, the spider doting on the piggy. Not quite the combination Snake expected, at least not since that one movie he saw as a kid.

Eventually, Angel set him down.

“G’boy. Daddy’s gotta’ work a little late, mmkay?”

He glanced to Snake. “Ey. Watch him while I clean up, alright?”

Snake tilted his skull head. “Buh?”

“Don’t you fuckin’ hurt em’ or I will personally use yer spine as a toothpick. He’s my trash baby.”

Snake didn’t scare easily. But that?

“. . .guh.”

Angel stared Snake down until satisfied, shrugging and heading to the shower. While he did, Fat Nuggets sat himself on haunches, tilting head and staring up at the greaser.

“Won’t even ask, little dude.” said Snake.

“Oink.”

“Well said.”

Snake studied the oink, scratching his chin. “Ya’ know, you’re the first pig I’ve gotten a good feeling from.”

Nuggets’ ears flicked. “Oink?”

“That Valentino fella’s a bad hombre, eh?”

Nuggets made an expression that might be anger, though it was impossible to tell with his adorable features. “ _Oink.”_

Here, Snake paused. What the hell was _this_ feeling? For perhaps the first time in his stay in Hell, a fuzzy, tiny kernel of warmth formed in his chest. He thought of the spider, in a way that wasn’t. . . in danger. If he had an opinion, he’d rather Angel smile than not. And, he at least didn’t like him around Valentino, that guy was cold vibes all the way through, so slimy he could extinguish Snake’s flaming pomp.

“Ew, gross,” Snake muttered. “I’m getting the softies! Bogus.”

Bummer. Ugh. He _liked_ Angel Dust, and he liked his pig. Gues the spider’s quippy, take-no-bullshit attitude was admirable. He could swing a gun and a knife. He was tough, too. Took a lot of grit to survive out here, totally ignoring paying a pimp and selling yourself just to get by. Most would rather die – again – than do that for another eternity.

“Hmm,” continued Snake, starting to pace. “You know, piggie, the only way to squeeze the _squeeze_ is to go totally Burning Man on his assets, you feel me?”

Fat Nuggets blinked over the showerhead noise of Angel. “Oink?”

“How do you make a scumbag frown? Steal his lettuce, hohah.”

Snake glanced to the closed bathroom door. “Then again, that could backfire. . .”

“And only wanna’ light a match under Val’s ass, right?”

Fat Nuggets didn’t understand.

_“Exactly.”_

Angel finished not long after, having dried his overall fluff and strutting out with a bath towel wrapped around lithe frame. He smiled at Nuggets who, for the time, was unperturbed if not utterly fascinating with Snake’s rambling.

“Aight’, less ya’ wanna peepshow, torchy, scram, gotta’ get the rest of me on.”

The greaser hardly heard him, exiting the room. “Got one more dive to put the clamp to, Angel _babe,_ meet me curbside, like, pronto.”

Angel waived him off, brushing his hair. “Yeahyeahyeah, don’t rush me, perfection takes _time.”_

-*-

Though the hour grew late, it was early by the pair’s standards. Snake was grinning inwardly while he waited for Angel, who pushed through the Hotel entrance after a spell, brushing back his cream-colored fluff and straightening skirt, “renewed.”

He grumbled, hopping into the passenger’s seat. “Fuckin’ asshole owes me. . . goddamn jizz stain. . .”

“Eh?”

Angel cleared his throat. “Nothin’. So, what now? S’better be worth it, I’m on overtime.”

Snake shifted _The Bandit_ into gear. “Let’s make a bastard _cry.”_

Angel blinked. “Wait whaaaAAAAA-”

Like before, the vehicle thundered across Pentagram City, tearing the streets as it barreled down the road. Snake had a new destination in mind, and oddly, it was probably the most thought he’d put into knocking over a joint. The Snake way didn’t call for plannin’, just doin’! But this was a special case. Angel was special. Why? Made no sense, honestly, he was just another street peach turning tricks for a typical slimy scumbag.

Yet he wasn’t. He _wasn’t_ just a whore. He _wasn’t_ just working for any ol’ skeeze. Angel had spunk, charisma, he had _fight._ And Val? Snake had done his fair share of terrible shit and worked with equally awful folks, but Valentino? Even that guy gave Snake heartburn. Angel deserved something better, Snake decided. He didn’t know what _kind_ of better, or how to even get to that point. But not whatever the hell Angel was dealing.

So, Snake could do the next best thing: do it the _Snake_ way.

His target was set and didn’t take much effort to find. Valentino’s limo, after all, was a spectacle of garish authority. It cleared traffic by sheer proximity, so all Snake had to do was track the trail of empty spaces and palpable fear. On one of the Pentagram City roads, he spied the white vehicle on the near horizon, shimmering like a pale dagger. Snake slowed _The Bandit_ down, because the roar of his machine was recognizable even through the audible muck of Down Below.

He sneered, watching the limo, waiting for it to set aside and stop. Angel Dust wasn’t oblivious either, snapping his eyes at the recognizable auto and then to Snake.

“Da’ fuck are we doin?”

There was an audible hint of anxious fear in the spider’s tone, and his lips sagged with a quivering frown.

“ _We’re_ not doing anything,” Snake decided. “I’ve just got a case of the munchies is all, and the only thing that’ll sate me is _lettuce,_ ho hah.”

Angel processed the words, staring the greaser down, this bizarre snake-skull headed enigma with a flaming pomp. He defied the logic of the City, flagrantly disregarding its structure and chaos and rules. Yeah, there were rules! The money goes up and it started with the Overlords! He could tell, right now, Snake was about to do something real dumb and try and pull off a dash-and-gab with _Valentino._

 _“_ Wait,” Angel cooed, snagging Snake’s wrist. “What is dis shit? Are ya’ insane?”

“Nope, just Snake.”

“You dumbass!” shrieked Angel, extra hands flying out. “Dat’s Val’s limo, ain’t it? You gonna’ try and. . . fucker, it's suicidal!”

Didn’t seem to bother Snake one bit.

“Why?” harped Angel, growling, crossing his arms. “What’s dis bullshit, huh? Ya’ tryin’ t’be some kinda knight? Some asshole that saves me? I don’t need no pity, and I don’t need savin! I ain’t no lightweight bitch! I’m Angel fuckin’ Dust!”

Angel gestured over the driver window. “Figure I’ll be all swoonin’ fer yer dick cause you try something dumb? Newsflash, dipshit, Val don’t give a fuck, he just gets even! He’ll use yer goddamn’ head like an ash tray!”

Snake cracked his fingers. “More reason to make him bleed green.”

Angel gawked. “I. . . I ain’t helpin’ you.”

“Good,” commened Snake, reaching over into his glove compartment. “It’s a solo act.”

Again, the spider was befuddled. “Why are you doin’ this!?”

Snake got his items while Angel continued.

“I ain’t given’ you money! I don’t do freebies! So if you’ze is after somethin’ go hustle another floozy!”

Snake got his items. “Nope. Just wanna’ put the pinch to him, Angel cakes.”

The spider wanted to be clear. “Valentino.”

“Any others I oughta know about?”

“Because!?”

Snake shrugged. “Hey, even I have standards, and Vally is way below my scumbag threshold, sweet thing. Friends help each other, eh?”

Here, Snake checked over his items. “Okay, like, gun, check. Bag with dollar sign, check. Let’s totally do this.”

Angel went quiet. He watched the leatherbound greaser hop out of the muscle car like this was no thing, like he wasn’t about to try and knock over an influential, hated, but _respected_ Overlord. Was this chud out of his fucking mind!? He was gonna die probably! For what? For. . . _for Angel? Just_ to inconvenience Valentino? Cause robbing the pimp wouldn’t do _anything_ to his funds. All this do was light a fire under his ass for like, an hour.

. . .Angel had to admit, the idea of an annoyed Val was a fun thought.

He gulped, watching Snake swagger off and brush back his sweep of flaming hair, spinning 9mm in hand with all the bravado of a fool. But you know what, maybe a fool who didn’t give a shit was the perfect guy for this kind of thing.

The spider grimaced. “Don’t get killed you fuckin’ moron,” he muttered.

As for Snake, he whistled a random tune as he approached the limo from the back. It was parked curbside, similar when it stopped for Angel a while ago. The suite door was pushed open, while a scantily clad succubus stood before it, her expression distraught, lips tugged with a frown. An audible, cold voice emanated from the vehicle interior, full of chastisement and contempt.

“. . .short. Don't wanna’ see that pretty mug til’ you got the rest, understand?”

The girl offered only a somber nod as she stepped away while Snake brushed passed her. The door groaned, starting to close, but Snake stopped it and casually _tossed himself inside the vehicle interior._ At once, he was engulfed in a ritzy pink encasing of cushy leather seats, pleasant perfumed scents, and the ambiance of sheer, absolute wealth. Now _this_ was a jackpot.

Snake sat himself down and kicked his legs up, much to the immediate fury of one Valentino. The moth pimp was surprisingly tall and lithe, pale violet flesh encompassed in a slick robe of scarlet cuffed with spotted patterns.

“What the FUCK!? Get the fuck outta’ my car!”

Val was opposite of Snake, arms around a pair of demonettes, who said nothing, but watched with surprised curiosity. Of course, the greaser didn’t oblige the command, instead snagging him a bottle of wine and pouring himslf a glass.

Val snarled. “You motherfucker. . .” He reached for a gun, but Snake was quicker on the draw, aiming his handgun at the moth.

“Relax, friendo, I’m just making a sandwich and I need some green, feel me?” chuckled Snake. Valentino blinked in absolute disbelief.

“You absolute fuck,” he threw back. “You really have no idea how much shit you’re in, do you?”

“If I was, shouldn’t have made it through the door. Seriously, hombre, carjacking 101, it’s totally too easy. But I won’t tell anyone if you just toss over everything in your pockets, hoha.”

“Listen, bitch-”

At once, Snake squeezed off a round. The loud bang cracked over Val’s shoulder and shattered the privacy glass. “No.”

Snake took a swig then held up his bag. “This bag needs to be filled, hombre, now make with the cabbage.”

Valentino didn’t move. He frowned, then smirked. “You know you’ll be dead by week’s end.”

Snake waved him off. “Heard that one a bunch, from guys twice as scary as you. Big Val gets by on rep alone, and it’s made you _lazy._ Who’d try to rob you, after all?”

The girls chuckled, glancing at the other. They did their best to show they weren't utterly tickled with Val getting shown up.

“You ballsy, butane headed little shit.”

Val snorted, reached to his side and snagged a roll of bills, flicking it over. “Here. Better enjoy it. Because now-”

Snake didn't listen, or care to, snagging the bills and leaping out of the car. “Yo, easiest job of my life, I only had one in the chamber, genius!”

Val shrieked and scrambled for a handgun, though one of the girls absent mindedly hid it and whistled. Snake gave the pimp an exaggerated waved and vamoosed. “BYE!”

He was back in the car within a blink, revving the engine and screaming down the road. He made off with a little cash and one supremely surprised spider.

-*-

 _The Bandit_ eased to a stop outside the Hotel front as evening settled over the vast city, touching the sky with malignant reds reaching into an abyssal black horizon. Snake keyed off the vehicle’s ignition, reached into his leather jacket and handed over the stolen roll of bills. Angel took it, albeit apprehensively, since it was technically Valentino’s money.

. . .wait. No the fuck it wasn’t. It was _his._ He worked for it, and Val just snagged it all for himself.

“. . .thanks?” said Angel, confused. “Ain’t you wantin’ this?”

“Thief's code, only keep what you steal,” said Snake, earning him an eyeroll from Angel Dust.

“Whatever.”

A sigh. “Thanks.”

Angel looked at the strange demon. He didn’t expect his night to go quite like this. “I don’t get it. Why ya' bein’ so nice t’me?”

“You ask funny questions.”

Snake exited the vehicle and proceeded to open Angel’s door. “Sorry babe, calling it here. Things are about to get real hot-like and Snakey has to keep it cool, dig?”

Angel stepped out, realizing what his counterpart meant. “Yer’ leavin?”

“I robbed your boss, totally gotta’ lay low for a while.”

Angel Dust frowned. He wanted Snake to stay. _Why!?_ He tossed a gloved hand behind him, gesturing at the Hotel. “Just chill here. Ain’t like anybody’s gonna’ give Lucy’s little monster no trouble, not even Val.”

“I don’t settle down.”

Angel huffed. Same old, same old. Just like a guy to blow in and blow out. He stowed away the roll of cash and sighed.

“Am I gonna' see you’ze again?”

Snake chuckled. “Like, in the papers, babe.”

Angel forced a smile. Great. Then, he reached over and planted a warm, soft kiss on Snake’s “cheek.”

“Save that sugar for next time, sweet thing.”

Snake said nothing else and hopped into his muscle car, revving the engine. He gave Angel one more look and grin before, once again, granting an exaggerated wave.

“BYE!”

 _The Bandit_ roared forward, vanishing into the horizon until its engine noise was lost in the chaotic ambiance of Pentagram City. Angel watched on, clutching the “ill gotten” centipede of cash, standing on the sidewalk for longer than he realized.

“Sure,” said Angel, quiet, to no one but himself. “Next time.”

It was a sobering, but familiar, feeling. Cool guy showed up in Angel’s life only to fuck off within the same night. But this guy. . . he was different. He didn’t ask for anything, except to “hang around” or whatever. Most of the time guys wanted little talk and all dick work. Like, sure, whatever, his “profession” and all that, but it was easy for Angel to forget he was a person sometimes.

Counting the bills over, though, he smirked. Heh. Val couldn’t get him for these. As far as the pimp knew some jackoff was runnin’ free with em’. He’d have to celebrate! Get a whole fuckload of blow and booze and burn the night away in some high-induced blur of. . .

Actually. Nah.

That was typical. And tonight wasn’t _typical._

He swaggered back into the Hotel, pushing the doors open. Husk was there again, minding the desk, and so was Charlie. She beamed at his arrival, offering a wave.

“Oh! Angel! There you are! Sorry we missed you, we had to run for groceries and ran out of time and. . .”

Angel normally had some snark in him, but now? “Oh yeh? Whatcha’ get?”

Charlie began to list off, in great detail, the various grocery items.

“We’ll need it for all our future guests, right?” she said, voice hopeful and tinged with painful optimism.

For once, Angel didn’t feel like being an asshole.

He smiled. “Hell yeah. When the food’s gone, peeps vamoose.”

Angel left the group and strolled upstairs, finishing off the night. Early, in fact Holy shit, that Snake dumbass got him out of “overtime.”

A familiar oink snagged the spider’s interest as Fat Nuggets scampered into view.

“Oink!”

Angel scooped him up. “M’little Nugsy!”

The spider realized what he was gonna’ spend the dosh on, courtesy of one strange, snake-headed dude.

[What a freakin’ lunatic.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVf7NBncUy0)

**Author's Note:**

> This was more fun than it had any right to be.


End file.
